


Etiquette and Ink. (An Unofficial Epilogue to 'School of Shinigami')

by Josey (cestus)



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Multi, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Shuuhei tries to pay his respects, Renji would like to get drunk, and Izuru, as usual, gets dragged along for the ride. Or bonding, with needles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etiquette and Ink. (An Unofficial Epilogue to 'School of Shinigami')

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink_bingo 2012. Wild Card:tattooing. Many thanks to Caeseria for the beta.

"We should invite her," Izuru said, stopping beside Hinamori's door. Was she waiting in there, hoping someone would knock and invite her to go out? Everyone else in their class was on their way, a veritable flood of advanced freshman were pouring out of their dorms and streaming past them, chattering loudly, each eager to take advantage of their new found freedom. Six months confined to academy grounds was enough for even the most devoted of students. So surely Hinamori would want to go too? Though perhaps she already had, and was even now out celebrating with her other friends? 

A few steps ahead of him, Renji grunted and kept on walking. Izuru hurried to catch up, excusing himself as he pushed past people and still shooting worried glances over his shoulder. "It'd be the polite thing to do. She was part of the group too. Without her staying behind, we would have obeyed Hisagi-senpai and then we all would have been killed."

"Yep," Renji agreed, "But if we invite her, what's she gonna do, eh? Go on and on about bloody Captain Aizen and how great he is." He shot Izuru a poisonous look as they jogged down the steps out of the first year dorm. "I don't know about you, but I've had enough of that. And I sure don't want to spend the whole evening listening to her wax lyrical about him."

He had a point. A very good point, actually. As much as Izuru respected the fifth squad captain and his lieutenant, and no matter how grateful he was to them for having saved his, and the other's lives, there was a part of him that resented how easily they had destroyed the huge hollows that had had their little group surrounded, out-numbered and terrified. And that part of him was heartily sick of Hinamori's ongoing infatuation. 

He sighed, hurrying the couple of steps needed to close the distance Renji had gained on him as his mind had wandered. It was a terrible habit, this slowing down when he got immersed in his thoughts. Yet another fault he had to correct in himself. Sometimes he quailed under the sheer number and weight of them. But he had to strive to improve. If he wasn't his very best, he would likely get himself killed, or worse yet, someone else. And then how would he live with himself. He would truly despair if he lost any of his team mates due to his own carelessness or non-attendance. Like... like... 

Memories of that night the previous week came tumbling back. The blood spraying from Kanisawa's body when she was flicked from the huge hollow's claws, the single blow that killed Aoga. Poor Hisagi-senpai. To watch helpless as his comrades died, knowing that if he had only been stronger, like Captain Aizen or Lieutenant Ichimaru, perhaps he could have saved them. How could he avoid falling into despair after such terrible events?

"Kira! Are you coming, or what?"

Startled back to himself, Izuru saw that, yet again, Renji had drawn ahead of him and was now halfway to the main gates, standing arms folded, foot tapping, as he waited for Izuru to catch up.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming. So sorry," he called, breaking into a jog across the parade yard. 

Just as he caught up, someone yelled something behind him. He turned to see a small figure waving from the steps of the main building; it was Rukia. Renji huffed, looking exasperated. "Damn it, what the hell does she want," he said. "Look, you head on, I'll catch up. Won't take more than a minute or two."

Izuru nodded and did as suggested, slowly making his way towards and then through the main gates. He had no idea where they were planning to go, so he'd just have to walk slowly enough that he wouldn't have far to backtrack when Renji caught up.

As he emerged onto the street, a shadow detached from a nearby wall, stepping into the lamplight and revealing itself to be none other than the very same Hisagi Shuuhei that Izuru had just been thinking about. The right side of his face still looked very swollen, the gouges caused by the hollow's claws red and angry, though his eye was clear and focused beneath them. Keeping the man's sight had obviously taken priority over healing his other injuries, which would definitely scar. Not that it would detract from the man's good looks. A facial scar would simply enhance them, Izuru thought.

"Kira, I was hoping to catch you this evening," Hisagi said, stepping closer. "Are you going out somewhere?"

"Yes, just locally though. Nothing exciting, I'm afraid," Izuru replied, wondering why he had been waylaid by the senior classman. Could he have some follow-up business from the week before?

"Excellent," Hisagi said and then simply stood there, gaze averted, staring off into the night. Izuru waited patiently for a minute of two, and was just about to ask him if there was something specific he wanted, when the man swung towards him suddenly and blurted, "Kira, I-" 

"There you are," Renji said, right over the top of him, "Who's – Oh, it's you."

"Abarai," Hisagi said, dipping his head in a manner far more deferential than their respective ranks required. Though his next words went some way towards an explanation for his behaviour. "I was just about to tell Kira, I would like to offer my thanks to you both for your help that night. You not only saved my life, but many others as well. It was timely and appreciated. Thank you."

Ignoring Renji's smug expression, and just knowing that his friend was about to be his usual coarse self, Izuru replied quickly, "It was the least we could do, since your own team were no longer able to watch your back." The devastated look that crossed Hisagi's face made Izuru wince. And he'd been worrying that Renji was going to be blunt. Well done, Izuru, he thought, just kick the man when he's already down, why don't you. "It wasn't your fault," he added, knowing he was digging the hole deeper but entirely unable to stop. "I'm sure there was nothing you could have done."

Thankfully Renji came to his rescue. "Face it, that thing was a fucking monster, able to hide its spirit energy like that. Came out of nowhere," he said. "Wasn't anything anyone could've done."

Except Aizen and Ichimaru, Izuru thought, but kept his own counsel. 

"That as may be, Abarai-kun," Hisagi interjected and appearing, with some difficulty, to compose himself. "Their demise still remains a fact. And with that in mind, I was hoping you might agree to join me this evening in commemorating their lives. Since you fulfilled their role in protecting me, it seems the right thing to do."

To be seen in public with _the_ Hisagi Shuuhei ? As freshman? If the circumstances had been different, Izuru would have been beaming like a cat who had stolen into the creamery. As it was, he dipped his head and said, with all solemnity, "It would be an honour, senpai," hearing Renji do the same beside him. 

They set off in a silent and somewhat awkward line, Izuru finding himself sandwiched between the other two and suddenly feeling somewhat like a neutral zone between two warring states. Why that should be, he didn't know. Renji had no gripe with Hisagi-senpai so far as he was aware. So then what were the narrow looks for?

Deciding it was none of his concern, Izuru turned his thoughts to which bar they would visit. It would be somewhere the sixth year students frequented, surely, which would give him an excellent opportunity to learn some of the names and faces he might encounter when he finally graduated. Of course, all the student soul reapers he met tonight would be taking the final exam in a month or two and so would be well-established by the time Izuru was ready to join the squads. Still, everyone had to start somewhere, and he'd had precious little opportunity to meet anyone other than his own classmates since starting at the academy. 

Suddenly Renji slapped a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close to Izuru's ear, announcing cheerfully in a low voice. "Hope ya don't mind a puking room-mate tonight, Kira, 'cos I plan on getting well and truly hammered. Last few months is the longest I've been without a drink in fucking decades."

Hisagi's posture tightened at the words, his shoulders straightening, fists clenching slightly, perhaps upset by Renji's language? Or the implied disrespect for his friends? Still, he said nothing. Renji had spoken quietly enough that it would be unconscionably rude for Hisagi to acknowledge that he'd overheard. 

They continued on, past several bars whose open doors revealed off-duty shinigami relaxing at tables. Renji slowed outside each one, his expression becoming increasingly filled with longing. By the time they actually reached the right place, he'd probably be happy to suck a sake cloth, Izuru reflected as they singularly failed to stop at yet another drinking establishment, this one populated by raucous crowds of older students.

He was somewhat taken aback when, instead of a bar, they ended up in a less salubrious part of the seireitei in front of a run-down building that had the strangest set of kana over the door that Izuru had ever seen. Hisagi walked in without pause, leaving the other two standing outside both staring suspiciously at the lettering.

"The other party?" Izuru suggested tentatively, wondering for a fleeting moment if Kanisawa and Aoga had been members some obscure political faction.

"Either that or a lot of sugar and that makes even less sense," Renji pointed out, as they pushed open the door and ventured, somewhat warily, inside.

Whatever the place was, it certainly wasn't a bar. It was however rather like walking into a haphazardly planted flower garden in the middle of summer. Possibly just after a small child had been let loose with a paint brush. The walls were covered in colour and it took Izuru a moment to realise that what he was seeing wasn't random at all, simply vast numbers of colourful illustrations. 

Izuru was still frowning, still confused at what, precisely, the place was, when Renji virtually exploded, "A tattoo parlour! I thought we were commemorating your friends, not getting needles stuck in us?"

"And how exactly did you expect to mark their lives, Abarai-kun?" Hisagi asked, somewhat tartly. Izuru got the distinct impression he was having second thoughts about having invited them. "By getting so drunk that you spent the night puking your guts out?"

Renji opened his mouth, and Izuru just knew that he was going to say something so terribly rude that both their careers would be ruined. He jammed his heel into Renji's instep and, ignoring his pained yelp, said as soothingly as he was able, considering what he thought he was probably letting himself in for, "We'll be happy to go along with whatever you think is best, Hisagi-senpai. After all, they were your friends." 

Beside him, Renji was virtually vibrating with suppressed rage and Izuru knew he had to do more to redirect his friend's emotions. Perhaps playing to his ego would work? He attacked with an alacrity that would have made his kendo teacher proud, "And the pain of getting a tattoo is hardly something to fear."

Apparently he'd said the magic words. Renji's transformation from simmering brawler to swaggering braggart was almost instantaneous. He puffed up like a blowfish and cast a cynical eye over first Hisagi and then the walls. "Fucking right it's nothing to be scared of," he said, doing a quick double take as something on the wall caught his eye. "I'll have that!" He levelled a finger at one of the illustrations and Izuru blanched. The man in the photograph was covered, head to toe, in jagged lines, swirls and blotches of solid black ink. Now Izuru did not consider himself an expert in the art of tattooing, but he did know enough to be certain that something like that was going to hurt like hell.

Hisagi snorted. "Freshman," he muttered, turning his back on them as the curtain at the rear of the shop lifted and a young woman ducked though. Izuru sighed as any chance of getting Renji to back down from his ridiculous decision evaporated like morning dew on a midsummer day.

"Saitou-san," Hisagi was saying, bowing courteously to the woman, who was beautiful in a hard angular sort of way. She looked as though she'd be more at home in a dojo than wearing her pretty midnight blue kimono.

"Shuuhei-kun," the woman replied, "How are you? It's been too long since you came to see me." She spoke as though she was his mother though they looked far too close in age. Of course that meant nothing. Though Izuru himself had been born in Soul Society and thus had aged at the normal rate for souls, he knew those who came from outside were often far far older than they appeared, so it was possible this woman had been a parental figure to Hisagi-senpai. 

Hisagi was rubbing the back of his head and looking sheepish, and was that...? Yes, he was blushing. Izuru smiled internally. It made the sixth year student look so cutely boyish.

"My apologies, Saitou-san," he began again. The woman waved him to silence, "I've told you before, just Hanako is fine. I've no time for formalities and this," she waved her left arm which, Izuru now realised, was missing from about the elbow down, "means I'm beyond meaningful titles."

An ex-soul reaper then? Not a captain or lieutenant, for anyone with spiritual energy of that level would surely be found other work in the squads, no matter the severity of their handicap. But a lower ranked officer; seventh or eighth seat perhaps?

Izuru found himself staring at her as she and Hisagi chatted about mutual acquaintances. He'd never given much thought to injured soul reapers before. In his mind, you either died or thrived. The possibility of surviving less than whole and being relegated to lesser tasks amongst the civilian population of the seireitei had never occurred to him. It was something of an eye-opener.

"So what's it to be this time, Hisagi-kun?" Hanako was asking.

Hisagi's face fell a little. "Kanisawa and Aoga were killed last week," he said, fishing a thin scroll out of the front of his kosode and unrolling it. "This is for them."

Standing where he was behind Hisagi, Izuru couldn't see the image, but going by Hanako's face, it meant something. "It's beautiful. I'm so sorry."

One of Hisagi's shoulders raised briefly. "It couldn't be avoided. I only survived because these students," he gestured back at Izuru and Renji, "were brave enough to stand and fight at my side. Without them, I would have been dead also."

"Then they deserve my thanks as well as yours." She lifted her dark gaze to them and finding Hanako's attention suddenly on him, Izuru offered a small polite bow, muttered his name and then floundered for something else to say. 

Renji had no such problems. "Abarai Renji. And if he's getting one, then I want that," he said, pointing again to the photograph of the illustrated man on the wall. 

Give Hanako her due, Izuru thought, her eyebrows hardly lifted and the corner of her mouth tilted only barely. 

"Ah, Abarai-kun," she said, "an excellent choice, however I would need to do it in many sittings. I find working for long periods quite exhausting." She indicated her arm and Renji immediately fell into line, agreeing that she shouldn't strain herself and that he'd be quite happy to have just a single section done today – a series of interlocking squarish shapes across both his collar bones. Which would be fine, he said, more than enough, honestly.

By the time she was escorting Renji through into the backroom, Izuru had mentally revised her old rank up by at least four seats. This woman knew exactly how to handle difficult young men.

Hisagi's design turned out to be crossed zanpakuto and the number six beneath a deep purple tulip which he had inked onto his left breast. "Over his heart," he said, in a way that suggested the two dead soul reapers were more than temporary team mates.

"You know, Hisagi-kun," Hanako said, when she was halfway through colouring the flower, "During my years in the squads, I made and lost hundreds of good friends. If I'd had a tattoo done for every single one of them, I would have run out of space by now." She levelled a look at him, her gun poised over skin held taut by kido in place of her missing left hand. "Maybe you should consider finding those worthy enough amongst the living instead."

"Hm," Hisagi hummed in response, his attention apparently fixed on the work she was doing, though Izuru thought that perhaps he listened. She had a fair point after all. 

When both Hisagi and Renji's tattoos were complete, Hanako turned to him. "Have you decided what you want to have done?" she asked.

"Me?" Izuru stammered. In all the fuss around Renji and then the novelty of watching the others getting tattooed, he'd forgotten he was supposed to getting one too. "I don't... I'm not..."

"Get one like mine," Renji said, thrusting out his chest. "It's fucking ace."

Izuru tried to imagine himself with such a design and failed entirely. "I really don't think-" he began before Hisagi cut in, "Fool, he wouldn't want something coarse like that."

"You're saying this is ugly?" Renji retorted and then the two of them were facing off, glaring at each other again. Izuru glanced between the pair, somewhat at a loss as to what was going on. Why they felt the need to bicker like this was beyond him, but then Renji's behaviour was quite often incomprehensible to Izuru. 

"I'm sure... I mean..." he tried, but they weren't listening. They had eyes only for each other. The level of spirit energy was rising, the bottoms of their kosode fluttering gently as it seethed between them. 

"You know, boys," Hanako butted in, her voice cutting through the tension like Ichimaru's zanpakuto through a hollow's mask, "If you feel that strongly, you could try just asking the kid himself."

They swung towards him, and Izuru froze. It was rather like suddenly finding yourself staring down the barrel of a kido cannon. One wrong move and he'd be incinerated. His mouth opened but not a single sound emerged.

A gentle hand on his forearm dragged his attention away from his suddenly intimidating companions. "Have a look through these," Hanako said, placing a thick folder of designs in his shaking hands. Clutching it tight, he turned his back on the others and started flipping through the images, searching for something, anything that would do. But they all looked so big! Izuru knew himself well enough to know that he would hate anything as large as Renji's design, or something as ornate and complex as Hisagi-senpai's. 

Not to mention the other problem. As a trainee soul reaper Izuru was used to experiencing pain. Just during the past couple of months he'd been cut, punched, stabbed and on one memorable occasion set on fire (Renji and kido were never a good combination) but to deliberately place himself in a situation where someone was going to coldly and calmly inflict pain on him... Izuru didn't think he was that brave. He'd seen the sweat beading Renji's upper lip as the needle pierced him over and over, seen the pallor of Hisagi's skin and the way he fisted his hands. It hurt. There was no escaping that simple, horrible fact. 

And yet he had promised. To walk away now would not only mean a crippling loss of face as a man, it would also mean the dishonour of having turned away from the two senpai who had lost their lives. He had to do this. However reluctantly. 

So what he wanted was a small design. Discrete. Something unassuming and yet meaningful, that would fulfil his obligations and yet not reduce him to cowardly tears on the couch.

He flipped slowly through the folder, page after page of thick lines or delicate tracery greeting him, until he began to despair. And then, when he was on the verge of giving up, there it was; the central image of several. Simple, scalable, and familiar enough that it would always remain in his heart. 

"You like that?" Hanako asked. She'd been hovering but was so unobtrusive that Izuru had hardly noticed her. 

"I do," he answered. "It looks rather like the kana for 'hi', but upside down." And was almost identical to the markings on Wabisuke's tsuba. He had no idea why they were there. For all his zanpakuto was an extension of his soul, he had no control over its appearance.

"I suppose it does," Hanako said. "Actually it's from a human world language called Greek. The last letter in their alphabet; 'omega'."

"Just one letter? That seems very... plain." Perhaps this wasn't the right choice, after all.

"It has a few other meanings, like the very end of something. The final part. Sometimes a death, which would make it appropriate for this." Hanako's voice was quiet but firm and Izuru decided that he liked Hanako, very much indeed.

"Since 'hi' can also be used to speak of an unfortunate event, the entire thing would seem preordained," he said with a nervous smile.

She grinned back at him, her face lighting with a mischief that suited her very well. It was only then that he realised they were alone in the back room. "Where are Renji and Hisagi-senpai?" he asked, looking towards the curtain. Perhaps they'd gone to look at the other illustrations. Should he follow? Or perhaps they needed the space. What if they fought? What if they wanted him to... what? What exactly was he worried about? There was certainly something in the air this evening, though Izuru couldn't for the life of him work out what it was. He should probably remain here. It was safest. They'd probably be coming back any moment.

"I sent them out for supplies. The pair of them are going to be far too sore to sleep without some help and well..." Hanako was busying herself, cleaning the gun with a strong smelling fluid. She levelled a considering look at him. "Frankly I thought you could do with some liquid courage."

"Liquid...? Oh, you sent them out for alcohol?"

"Yes," she laughed. "Don't look so scandalised. You won't be the first guy who opts for a cup or two before hopping onto my couch."

It was the way she said it, with a smirk and a twinkle in her eyes. Izuru felt his cheeks heat and cursed his conservative upbringing yet again. He found the forwardness of some female soul reapers very intimidating. 

"Hey, Kira, you got something picked out?" Renji yelled as he bulled his way into the shop and through the curtain, a jug of sake in the crook of his arm. The front of his kosode gaped wide and Izuru could see that patches of his tattoo had been bleeding. It made Izuru feel queasy.

Hisagi trailed in behind, holding, or rather cuddling, another jug and Izuru took a second look at Renji, realising that his loudness was as much from alcohol as from bravado. How long had he been looking through that folder for, anyway?

"I think so, yes," he said and angled the folder so Renji could see.

"That little thing?" Renji began, only for Hisagi to cut in saying, "You should have it put there," as he poked Izuru between the eyebrows with his finger.

Hanako smacked them both over the head, making them duck and yelp. "You boys leave him alone. It's plenty big enough and not everyone wants their pretty face covered with ink the way you do Shuuhei-kun."

They looked petulant but didn't argue. Hanako was rightfully the queen in her own domain. She turned to Izuru. "Have you thought where you might have it?" she asked.

"Eh?" he havered, glancing between her and the symbol. He really hadn't thought. The others had had theirs done on their chests but Izuru didn't think this would look right there. It was too small. His biceps perhaps? Although again, it would appear a little lonely plonked there on its own.

"How about your back?" Hanako suggested. "The top of the shoulder is quite popular."

"Nah," Renji said, "the girls all have them there. It's a total wuss out. Have it..." he paused, obviously thinking hard, then a devious expression crept over his face. "Have it right here," he said and slapped the palm of his large warm hand onto the base of Izuru's spine, making Izuru lurch forwards a touch. "Right above yer ass-crack."

"That could work, yeah," Hisagi agreed, the flush on his cheeks heightening. "Aesthetically it would balance really nicely."

Izuru froze, desperately conscious that Renji's hand was still exactly where it had landed, pressing against him, the heat of it a brand even through his kosode and hakama. How the hell much had Renji had to drink, anyway? 

"It might be a bit painful," Hanako suggested, "Though I agree it would look lovely. The decision's yours though, Kira-kun."

Surrounded by pleading expressions, Izuru did what he had to. He nodded slowly, "All right, if you think that would be best."

"Great!" Renji cheered and finally – finally – removed his hand. Izuru's back felt cold, but only until Renji hustled up behind him and started tugging on his kosode. "Gotta take this off. S'not gonna work if you don't."

"Rubbish," Hisagi was saying, encroaching rapidly on Izuru's hakama, "He only has to take these off and flip the kosode up."

Renji's hands stilled on Izuru's collar and Izuru heard his breath hitch before he let out an explosive groan, "Fuck, Hisagi," he muttered, "Don't say shit like that."

Comprehension erupted to life in Izuru's mind, swiftly followed by a healthy dose of white hot rage. Things which had made not an atom of sense suddenly snapped into vivid focus and the picture they painted was enough to stir Izuru into motion.

A hard backwards jab with his elbow sent Renji staggering, coughing and gasping for air, and a punch to the nose saw Hisagi spinning away, his hands clutching his face, moaning in pain.

"What the fuck!" Renji choked out. "What'd you do that for?"

Hanako was staying out of it, though the expression on her face suggested she knew exactly what was going on. Izuru took a moment to resent the fact that she hadn't told him! Before turning his attention back to the two idiots in front of him.

"I did it because you deserved it," Izuru snapped. "I can't believe you didn't say anything, either of you. Hisagi, were you trying to ask me out on a date this evening before Renji showed up?"

Hisagi nodded, fingers tentatively prodding at his nose.

"And you," Izuru turned on Renji, "We've been sharing a room for a month and you didn't think to say anything?"

"I didn't think-" Renji whined and Izuru cut him off right there. "Exactly! You didn't think at all, either of you! So what exactly was the plan for tonight. I'm sure you concocted something ridiculous while you were out together."

The two exchanged guilty looks and Renji toed the ground. He muttered something that Izuru almost missed, and had to demand a repeat because he really totally could not believe his ears.

"You what!" he roared.

"We played janken," Hisagi admitted, looking much soberer now and more than a little chagrined.

"You played a game of chance. With me as the prize!" Izuru took a breath and willed himself to calm. They were idiots. He'd already known that of Renji, though he'd expected better of Hisagi. At least the latter had the decency to look embarrassed. "I hesitate to ask, but who won?" he enquired out of sheer morbid fascination. 

Hisagi and Renji exchanged looks and this time it was Renji who spoke up. "We kept on drawing, so we decided to share."

Izuru took a disbelieving step back, his legs collided with the side of the couch and he sat down heavily. Hanako, wonderful woman that she was, pressed a full cup of sake into his hand. Izuru downed it in one and held the cup out for a refill, which Hanako quickly provided.

"So let me get this straight," Izuru said, once the second cup had had a chance to settle. "Both of you want to date... No, let's be frank about this, both of you want in my bed and rather than continue to fight about it, as you were doing behind my back all evening, you played a game of janken. And when neither of you won, you just decided on a threesome?" Even in his head, it sounded irrational. Not unappealing because really, Renji and Hisagi? Together? He could think of worse ways of spending a few hours. What was really getting to him was their ridiculous assumption that he was some kind of timid virgin who'd collapse with a fit of the vapours if one of them had actually come out and said something!

"We didn't really," Hisagi said.

"What?" Izuru replied, getting a bad feeling that the sake might have loosened his grip on his mouth.

"Think that you were some kind of timid virgin. At least Renji didn't and so neither did I."

Damn, had he said all that out loud? "So what did you think? Or were you just too big a cowards to man up and ask." Going by their matching embarrassed expressions, that apparently hit the nail on the head quite accurately. "I give up," Izuru said, slamming the empty cup down on the couch next to him, "on the pair of you." 

He stood up, deliberately turned his back on the baka boys and addressed their much amused hostess, "Hanako-san, do you need me to remove my kosode or can you manage with me just lowering my hakama." He ignored the twin intakes of breath from behind him. He was beyond caring.

"Just lowering them would be fine, Kira-kun," Hanako said, "though you might find it more comfortable without the kosode. Some people find they sweat a lot while they're being tattooed."

That made sense. Izuru undid his kosode and slipped it off his shoulders, folding it over his arm and passing it back to Renji, who took it silently. Then he loosened his hakama, hitched up his shitagi, hopped up on the couch and said, as brazenly as he could manage, "How do you want me?"

Hanako barked a laugh. "On your left side, back to me and curl over slightly," she said, her small hands adjusting Izuru's position until she was happy. "That'll do, now let me just..." Izuru felt a tug on his hakama and fundoshi until they slid down a few inches coming to a rest about halfway down his cheeks. He blushed at the idea of being so revealed in front of her, but forced himself to remain still.

Something cold and wet swabbed over his skin and he smelt the same strong smell he had earlier. Some kind of disinfectant, he presumed. Then the press of the weak kido Hanako used to hold the skin taut and the creak of the pivoting gun-stand moving into place.

"You ready?" she asked and Izuru nodded, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. The first touch of the needle felt not unlike a high level healing kido, except concentrated in one spot, and as Hanako continued to work, the feeling grew, becoming a kind of sore burning, almost an itch, that made him want to squirm away or possibly beg for more. To his intense discomfort and embarrassment, Izuru realised he was getting hard. 

The sensation seemed to go on forever, the needle tracing lines of fiery 'something' across his skin. Through sheer force of will, Izuru held himself still, neither flinching nor moaning, until finally with a little puff of relief, Hanako sat back and swiped a cloth across his ass. 

"Are we done?" he asked a little huskily, peering back over his shoulder.

Hanako laughed. "Not even close. That was just the outline. Need another drink?"

More like a chance to jerk off, Izuru thought. He could never have suspected that being tattooed would have this effect on him. He wasn't fond of pain in the normal run of things and had been known to whine pathetically when he strained a muscle overdoing it during training. So why would this be so different?

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust his hakama to keep his embarrassment concealed. He was sweating, he realised, everything sliding slick and hot, the thin material of his shitagi clinging like a second skin. He rubbed his face with the back of his hand and realised it was shaking. "I think any more sake would be a mistake actually," he said. "Um, will the rest feel the same?"

"Yes, although it may become more intense," she replied, swiping the cloth across him again and he couldn't help but jerk as she touched him. "You sure you're okay?"

"Fine, yes, fine," Izuru managed, knowing he was sounding a bit strangled. He heard the shift of cloth from behind him and voices whispering, low and intense. A rapid-fire exchange and few sharp whispered comments, and then Hanako said, "Kira-kun, would you mind if Shuuhei finished this? He's very good, I promise, and it's only the shading. He's done work for me before."

To not have her there, to not risk her seeing, or devils help him, hearing when some obvious noise escaped as it was going to if this got more intense. "No, yes, please. That'll be fine, thank you," he managed and must have made some sort of sense since there was a creaking of furniture and the next hand that touched him was much larger, and oddly more gentle.

"Renji," Hisagi said in an flat tone, and the next thing Izuru knew, Renji hove into view, his face level with Izuru's, his hands gripping both of Izuru's tightly. He had to be sitting next to the couch Izuru realised a bit fuzzily. His expression was by turn a little confused but determined. And for a brief, strange moment, Izuru felt like he was on his death bed surrounded by sympathetic mourners.

"You don't have to go through with it if you don't want to," Renji said quietly.

"I know," Izuru reassured him, "but I want to." He did as well. Now Hanako was gone, he felt safer, which was a complete reversal of his feelings from only a short while ago. He found it difficult to understand himself and wouldn't have a hope of explaining it anyone else, but it was true. Lying here, between these two men, he felt safe. "Whenever you're ready, Hisagi-senpai," he said as brightly and assertively as he could.

"I think Shuuhei is a bit more appropriate, since I've got my hands on your ass," an amused baritone came from behind him. It broke the atmosphere perfectly. 

Izuru chuckled, feeling some of the tension drain from his body. "Shuuhei, then. And you must call me Izuru, since you do have your hands on my ass."

"It's a very nice ass, Izuru," Hisagi said solemnly, and Izuru laughed again, flexing his fingers where they were close to being crushed between Renji's. "Ready?" Hisagi asked and when Izuru nodded, the gun started up with its incessant buzzing again.

This time it was both worse and better. The feeling was much more intense. Each pass of the needle, each stroke of the cloth, each touch of Shuuhei's fingers pressing and tugging at his skin sent Izuru spiralling higher and higher. 

And yet he had Renji to keep him grounded, had Renji's voice describing exactly how far through the process they were, had Renji's touch as a continual counterpoint to the never-ending 'there-ness' of the needle until, "Oh god," Izuru moaned, his erection throbbing almost painfully within the restrictive cloth of his fundoshi. He was leaking, he knew. When he stood up, there was going to be a wet patch. It was going to show. And then they would know. "Oh god," he moaned again, as much with shame as with arousal.

"Tattooing's a strange thing," Hisagi said in a strained but chatty voice. The gun stopped for a moment and Izuru felt like crying in relief and frustration both. "I've seen lots of different reactions to it. I don't think there's anything 'normal' about any of them."

"I'm sure you've not seen a reaction like this one before," Izuru managed, realising even as he spoke that both Shuuhei and Renji knew exactly what was going on. They had sent Hanako away deliberately, he realised.

"Actually I have, the first time I had one done. It was on my upper thigh. Don't ask, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I was so embarrassed, I thought I'd die until Hanako explained that it wasn't that uncommon."

"I wish you'd said something." It came out almost as a sob, much to Izuru's chagrin.

"Would you have believed me?" Hisagi asked.

Izuru was shaking his head even before he answered. "No, never. It doesn't make sense, it... It's a completely stupid reaction."

"Like I said, no reaction is normal. Ready to go again?" The gun started up and Izuru jerked his head. He could do this. He was more than halfway there.

Five minutes later, with tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, he was about ready to beg Hisagi to stop. The urge to move, to thrust, to stick his hands down his hakama and jerk his dick until he came, was so overwhelming he was having a hard time remembering where he was and why he really shouldn't do that. Sweat rolled down his back, the itch adding to his misery, and his breath sawed in his throat like dying man's.

"Almost done," Hisagi muttered, "then I want to try something."

"'kay," Izuru managed, half swallowing his tongue in the attempt to not moan aloud.

The needle vanished and Izuru couldn't stop himself. He shoved at the top of his hakama, pushing them down and away, almost sobbing with relief as he yanked his fundoshi loose and his erection hit the open air.

"Fuck," Renji muttered and Izuru wanted to hit him. Or possibly fuck him. At this point, he didn't much care. 

A cool hand gripped him by the hip and Izuru froze, wondering for a fleeting second if he'd gone too far. 

"It's okay," Hisagi said calmly, then added in a way that made Izuru think of heated looks and possibly rope, "I just want to try going a bit lower. Renji, give him a hand, will you?"

Lower? Oh hells! Hisagi's large hand pressed hard against Izuru's ass, his fingers spreading his cheeks a little. The buzz began again and this time when the needle touched it left a track of fire down from the new tattoo to the very tip of Izuru's coccyx. 

At the same moment, Renji's fingers closed around Izuru's erection and Izuru yelped, thrusting forward, eliciting a snigger from Renji and an admonishing tut from Hisagi, who said, "I removed the ink, so that's not going to leave a mark, but you should at least try to keep still."

"I'd like to see you do so," Izuru complained through the haze of arousal that was threatening to consume him whole. If he didn't get to come soon he was seriously going to explode or something.

Renji closed his other hand around Izuru's hip bone and said, half-seriously, "I could use a bakudo."

"Oh fuck," Izuru groaned as his dick gave a jerk in Renji's hand. He turned his face into the couch, cheeks flaming. Honestly were they going to dig every secret kink out of him this night and expose it for public consumption?

"Have you ever tried it?" Hisagi began earnestly and then added, "No, you probably haven't. When you get good enough, you should. It's as hot as hell. Best bondage ever, honestly."

"Not helping!" Izuru panted, writhing between their grips. His own hands were clutching the front of Renji's kosode and were apparently permanently attached. If he could find the wherewithal to move them, he could jerk himself off, damn it. At least then he wouldn't have to wait for these two Chatty Cathys.

"Sorry," Hisagi said, "Want to go again?"

Did he? Hell, yes! "Go on, just do _something_ between the two of you, for goodness sake."

"You heard the man, Renji. Ready?"

Apparently Renji was. His fingers slid up Izuru's dick in one smooth slide, the thumb dragging over the tip and all Izuru could do was tighten his grip on Renji's kosode and whine as Hisagi set the gun going again and played it back over the tender skin at the top of Izuru's ass.

"Ah," he groaned, "not gonna last, please." He needed to move, needed to – to something. Needed just that little extra push on top of Renji's hand that was wonderful and lovely and just the right side of tight but not quite enough and oh fuck, yes. The line of fire moved further down his ass and maybe the angle changed or something because now he could feel Shuuhei's knuckles rubbing back and forth over his hole and fuck he was going to come. A last run of flame and that was it, hitting him like a punch in the gut. Izuru curled around it, hips pumping as he shot over Renji's hand, breath guttural as it broke past his lips, some combination of yes and fuck and possibly garbled names. He didn't care. He just rode it out, pushing into Renji's grip, feeling other hands on his shoulders and back, stroking and touching and someone somewhere saying something about how hot he looked. 

As always, it went on forever and never quite long enough. With a final gasp, he unwound, flopping back onto the couch, chest heaving and heart pounding in his ears. Shivers ran through him, curling his toes and making him twitch. He shoved Renji away, draped an arm over his eyes, and tried to find the energy to be embarrassed at what had just happened.

As his heart slowed and reality shifted back into focus, he realised some of what he'd thought was residual world-moving was actually the couch shaking. He opened his eyes and grinned at the sight that awaited him. Renji and Shuuhei in a clinch, lips locked, hakama and fundoshi on the floor and hands round each other's dicks, going for it for all it was worth. 

Izuru propped himself on his elbows and played the appreciative audience, far too sated to do more than just enjoy the show. For show it was. They were fighting it out, Izuru quickly realised, each trying to force the other to come first. Renji had his free hand fisted in Shuuhei's hair, pulling his head back and exposing his long elegant neck, the collar tight around his Adam's apple. From the look on Shuuhei's face, it was working for him. He looked pained, desperate, eyes screwed tightly closed. But it was him who held on. 

As Izuru watched, Renji finally lost it, throwing his head back and crying out as he came, his expression one of agonised ecstasy. Hisagi darted in, sinking his teeth into Renji's neck and a second later was coming himself, the fingers of his free hand stretching as though to grasp at something not quite within reach. 

Beautiful, Izuru thought, this was definitely going down as top quality wanking fodder for the next decade or two.

The pair lurched into the couch as they came down from their highs, hips colliding and both half-falling to the floor. Shuuhei gave Renji a shove and, chuckling breathlessly, Renji staggered for the chair almost tripping over his hakama before kicking them off. "Fuck," he panted, as his bare ass hit the seat, "You fucking bit me, you asshole!"

Sure enough he had a lovely set of teeth marks on his neck. From the bottom of the couch, Shuuhei gave him look that entirely failed to be innocent. "Sorry?" he said, obviously not meaning it for a moment. Izuru sniggered. 

Renji shook his head. "I'll get you back next time," he said, arms flopping down by his sides as he slouched almost horizontal in the chair, head back and eyes closed. He looked quite the picture with his hakama gone and his kosode open, sweat gleaming on his newly tattooed chest, his soft prick nestled amongst damp crimson curls. Izuru wished he had a camera. It was certainly one for posterity.

"Next time, we're doing it in a bed," Shuuhei said, pushing at Izuru's legs until he moved far enough over to let Shuuhei crawl up and collapse next to him. He patted Izuru's thigh once he was there. "Anyway, this one got to relax and take it easy this time. So I vote next time he does all the work."

All this talk of next time was tying Izuru's stomach in knots. "You want there to be a next time?" he asked tentatively.

Renji dragged himself upright and fixed Izuru with a level stare. "Quit worrying," he said. "If it happens, it happens. S'all good."

And it was. It really was. Izuru let his concerns go. They were young, carefree, and really what did he have to worry about anyway. If he couldn't enjoy his academy days, he was a pretty sorry excuse for a student. In fact...

"Any of that sake left?" he asked, because another drink would go down quite well round about now. And then perhaps, they could see about finding that bed.

 

The End


End file.
